Of Instruments and Footballs
by Kamera-Mutt
Summary: High School AU Castiel is in the band and Dean on the football team. The two definitely start off on the wrong foot, will they ever get along? Rated M for, well, you know.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel groaned at his alarm, quickly slamming the SNOOZE button. He rolled over, hearing his brother in the other room stirring and cursing his own alarm. They both couldn't believe they signed up for this again – Castiel noted to make an appointment with a mental hospital later. He finally decided it was time to get up before Gabriel started knocking on his door in his annoying little way of his. He groaned again, rubbing the eye crusts out of his eye and grabbed the thin AD/DC t-shirt and basketball shorts he set out for the day. He pulled them on as well as some socks and tennis shoes.

The first day of band camp. Ugh.

He made sure to grab his SPF 75 sunscreen, coating himself in a thin layer before packing it in his CamelBak pocket. He placed his knock-off Ray Bans on top of his head and made sure he had enough water for the day, putting a couple of bottles of water in the pocket with his sunscreen just in case. Dehydration is a bitch. Satisfied with his packing, he placed his 'Bak by the door along with a baseball cap for later.

Castiel was pouring some cereal in a bowl when Gabriel stomped down the stairs, CamelBak in hand. He placed his along with Castiel's and joined him in the kitchen. "Explain why we have to wake up so early when we live two minutes away?" he asked.

Castiel swallowed his bite of cereal, "This is your senior year, Gabe, you should know this."

Gabriel waved his hand at the comment, "At least I get to watch you march around this year."

Castiel had almost forgotten Gabriel had gotten the head drum major position, meaning he called out commands and got to stand on the sidelines as the rest of the band went over basics for the umpteenth time. Why bother the upperclassmen when it was the freshmen who needed to learn it? Castiel himself would have a chance to rest every once in a while, being the leader of his section, along with a very disgruntled Ruby just because she was co-leader.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked up to the kitchen clock. 7:20. Castiel finished his breakfast, urging Gabriel to chug his orange juice on the way. Grabbing both instruments (Gabe wouldn't be playing most of the time, but you never know) and locking the door, they drove in Gabe's old truck to New Haven High School. The brothers parted in the band hall as Gabe joined the other drum majors and Castiel to his section's corner of lockers. Kneeling, his put his case on the ground and opened it to reveal his old clarinet.

True, the clarinet wasn't the manliest instrument, but he liked it. It wasn't as annoying as the saxophone and not as dainty as the flute, so it was a good middle ground. He brought a reed to his mouth and sucked on it, wetting it and putting a few reeds in his pocket. He placed it on the mouthpiece and finished putting his clarinet together. He stood and played a few warm up notes, checking the time. 7:35am. He could stand to stay inside for a little before he had to make his way to the stadium.

A flash of red caught his eye as Charlie Bradbury slung an arm around his shoulder, her flute under her other arm. "And how is my favorite queen today?"

Castiel yawned not expectantly, causing her to giggle, "That well, huh?"

"Better if we weren't about to do a week's workout in four hours." He grumbled, slipping out of her grasp to pick up his water pack. "Can you believe it's our junior year?"

The redhead sighed dramatically as they followed the rest of the band out of the band hall and into the slightly humid air. "Another year of this and then we're done for good!" She exclaimed, opening the gate to the football stadium.

Castiel chuckled, but stopped and grimaced in disgust as he took in the sight in front of him. "What are THEY doing here?"

Rolling, wrestling, sweating, and grunting in the football stadium was the New Haven Wolves football team. The band looked around at each other, not knowing what to do now that their field is taken. Castiel took his place in the front of the band, Charlie slightly behind him. Just like the red sea, Gabriel separated the band, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, slightly squeezing it as a warning to not get involved.

The shorter man crossed to the sidelines, flagging down a player. Castiel eased himself closer to his brother, glaring at one of the apes that took their field. Gabriel was shaking his dirty gloved hand. "Hi there! How's the team lookin' this year?"

The teenager shrugged, "Pretty good."

Gabriel grinned, "Excellent! Well, there must be some sort of miscommunication between the groups, because the band is supposed to have the field today."

Castiel inched closer as the boy laughed, "Dude, I'm sorry, but we need the field way more than you do."

Gabriel's smile wavered a little, "We've had this field reserved all this week, I even have an email from the principal—."

"So you greasy apes need to get off our field," the clarinet player piped in, Gabriel gave him an exasperated look.

Castiel stood toe to toe with the player, wishing he were a little taller to at least be intimidating. He almost back away as the player glared back. Castiel took in the tan skin, freckles like sprinkles across his face, and the sweaty blond hairline, too early for it to be drenched. The player, number 49, took a step forward, smirking when Castiel gasped at closeness. "Whatcha gonna do about it, flute boy?"

It was Gabriel who got a couple of brass players to pull them apart, 49 finally backing away as Castiel pulled against the arms grabbing him by the shoulders. Gabriel wrenched his instrument from his hands, careful with the reed (he didn't need his pissy brother to have another reason to be pissy). The drum major told the player to remind his coach about the field situation tomorrow, or there would be issues. The player rolled his eyes, running back to the team. They had been watching the whole thing. Before Castiel turned away, he squinted his eyes at the jersey, _Winchester_.

* * *

So after a quick relocation to the band's practice field, an empty stadium parking lot with yard lines, the year's first day of band camp was underway. After a 15 minute break, Castiel was feeling woozy. He sucked down some water from his bag, thanking a god for section breakdowns so he wouldn't have to march. His vision was a little blurry around the edges, but he wrote it off as the sun glaring on his sunglasses.

His section was pretty good this year with Ruby bearing down on them as he supervised. One freshman, however, was struggling with everything. He looked on the verge of tears as Castiel took him to the side before Ruby could rip him a new one. He guided the boy the 5 yard line, tripping a little but catching himself.

Samandriel explained that he never got the cues in basics, so Castiel taught him from the top. The boy smiled as they went through the commands, finally understanding. He was asking Castiel how to step off backwards when he stopped, looking worriedly at the older boy's pale face. "Are you okay, Castiel? You don't look good…"

Castiel rolled his eyes, "Don't ask stupid questions, I'm find-fine!" he wiped his brow, surprised at the lack of sweat, "It's just hot is hall-all."

Samandriel didn't look relieved, instead he took a step toward his mentor, "Are you sure? Because you look sick."

Black spots covered Samandriel's face as Castiel blinked furiously to clear his vision. "Samandriel, go get Gabriel."

The next thing he remembered was the hot concrete scratching his face as he fell to the ground.

* * *

**Author's Note: All I can say is that dehydration is a bitch. :)**

**Most of Castiel's hatred for football players came from me. High school football players are dicks.**


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel woke up in a pool of something wet. He groaned softly, swiping at his hair plastered to his face. He smelled his hand, it didn't smell like sweat. He let his eyes wander around his location, figuring he was in the field house. He had only been there a couple times before this, but only for fitness tests and they were only there for 15 minutes. Long enough to see if each student was flexible and then the teachers would let them go. He'd never been in this room before, though. It was most likely a nurse's station, but no one was in charge.

The boy shifted to his side, finding a water bottle and his clarinet on a plastic chair beside the cot. He reached out for the bottle, uncapping it quickly and downing half of it. A shifting of water against metal surprised him, and he turned around to see the boy he had been fighting with that morning was across the room. He was, to Castiel's dismay, shirtless and sitting in a tub. There was a black sun tattooed to his left pectoral (was he even old enough?). The boy was gripping the tub in a grimace, obviously in pain. Castiel tilted his head, finally catching 49's eye. Winchester smirked, but it was cut off by a gasp.

"Glad to see you're awake flute boy." He mumbled through gritted teeth. "Thought I was gonna sit here all day without anyone to talk to."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, "How did I get here?"

"The short one and two other people carried you in with your stuff," 49 relaxed finally, "Dude, dehydration's a bitch, you gotta drink a lot if you're gonna be out there all day."

"Why are you in here?" Castiel asked, curious.

"Because I like sitting in a tub of ice water, why do you think?" he sighed as he saw Castiel's unimpressed face, "Sorry, I'm in pain. I think I tore my hamstring or something."

Castiel sat up, catching himself as he almost fell forward, "Why am I wet?" He gestured to the dark spots all over his shirt and to the pool of liquid he was currently laying in. Winchester's shoulders started to shake as he laughed. Castiel tilted his head again, furrowing his brow, "What?"

"Well you were out and I was bored," his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, "so I started throwing ice at you."

"Very mature."

"Ah, c'mon, flute boy!" Winchester complained, Castiel slammed the bottle on the cot.

"First of all you ignoramus, that is called a clarinet," he pointed to his instrument still lying in the chair, "Second, what makes you think you're so above the band, hm? It doesn't take much to throw a ball around and tackle someone. I should know, I've been watching the team for two going on three year now. What makes you so high and mighty you over grown-?"

"Castiel!" his brother showed up at the most inopportune times. "How you feeling baby bro?"

Castiel groaned, seeing 49's mouth twitch at the "baby bro" bit. The band member stumbled from his cot, grabbing his things and practically shoving Gabriel back through the door. He slammed the exit to the nurse's station closed, not missing the hurt expression in Dean's face. Maybe he should've been nicer? Castiel shook his head, no, he was an ape. He didn't have feelings.

"So," Gabe finally piped up, throwing a glance at Castiel, "wanna tell me what happened there?"

Castiel kicked a stone as they walked to the band hall, the outside portion already done. "I got dehydrated and passed out."

"Don't play stupid you know what I mean – with Dean in there."

"He was being a dick so I set him straight."

Gabriel pushed him on the arm playfully, "Cassie," he didn't miss the glare Castiel shot in his direction, "the only reason they're dicks is because they like to antagonize us. Don't give them the pleasure."

As they approached the outside door of the band hall Gabriel placed a hand in front of Castiel's chest. "Yeah, I forgot to mention, you're going home."

Castiel's eyes widened, "What? C'mon Gabriel, don't do this."

Keys dangled in front of his face, "As much as I'd like to tell you I'm joking, I'm not. Apparently Mrs. Tran was driving by to check on Kevin and saw you as you hit the ground. You couldn't believe the hole she ripped into Mr. McLeod."

Castiel was about to protest but Gabriel continued, "Plus, little Sammie is a mess, the last thing he needs is you waltzing in after something like that. You scared the hell out of us, Cassie, so go get some rest and drink up. All we're doing is stand tunes, nothing major."

The dark haired boy sighed, taking the keys still dangling in his face. He gave his clarinet to Gabriel, warning him about the reed (like he hadn't done that since 6th grade, but still). Castiel then waved to his brother, trekking to the end of the lot where Gabriel likes to park. It wasn't new or anything, but his brother had been on a health kick recently, thus parking the car far away so they both got more exercise.

Castiel dragged himself into the single cab, not realizing he was that tired. Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking lot and towards the Novak household. On his way, he saw a strangely familiar backside walking (or limping) towards the crosswalk, jersey in hand. Castiel slowed, rolling the passenger window down to get a good look. There was Winchester, now with a shirt and an ice bag strapped the back of his leg. Castiel honked, glad that Gabriel's truck didn't have a manly horn but a Roadrunner beep. It got the limp-walking boy's attention.

"What's up?" he asked as Castiel pulled up to the curb, stopping and putting the car in park.

"What are you doing?" Dean laughed at Castiel's almost sympathy.

"Walking home, I'm injured, remember?" he leaned on the car, hunched over to see inside. "What are you doing?"

Castiel smirked, "I passed out, remember?"

"Oh yeah," he chuckled a little, "well have fun."

He started to leave when Castiel drove with him and honked again, "Wouldn't it be adding to your injury if you walked home?" he shouted.

"What are you suggesting, Cas?"

Castiel couldn't help the blush that crept onto his skin at the nickname. It wasn't a girly "Cassie" or "Casey", it was…tolerable. He still didn't like nicknames though. When he realized the other boy was waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat, "Well, since I have nothing better to do, I could drop you off."

Winchester shrugged, not verbally answering as he popped the door open and slid into the passenger seat. Castiel smiled, "Which way?"

"Uh, keep going straight, and I'll go from there." He scratched the back of his head, "I'm Dean, by the way." He held out his hand.

Cas shook it. "Castiel Novak."

Turns out that Dean's house was at least two miles away from the school, across the bridge over the highway, and into a large neighborhood. The ride was quiet besides Dean pointing and murmuring directions. He had turned the station to a random rock radio. Castiel would catch the other smirking at songs, obviously wanting to do more than just tap his thumb to the rhythm. Dean's house was an average one story, red bricked, and with an old car in an open garage that Castiel couldn't put the name on. He pulled into the driveway halfway, careful to not hit the car.

"Here we are," he announced.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean opened his door, almost getting out but then sitting back down, leaving the door propped on his foot to keep it from shutting. "Hey, um, I'm sorry for throwing ice at you and stuff."

"Dean—."

"No, Cas. I was being a dick. I'm sorry."

Castiel smiled a little, "No worries, Dean. It's been forgotten."

Dean's mouth twisted into a genuine smile. Slapping Castiel's knee (Castiel swore up and down that he held it there longer than normal), he said goodbye and shut the door. The driver waited until Dean had unlocked the front door and waved to him again before pulling out. The next time Castiel looked to the house the boy had disappeared. He shifted the truck into Drive, stopping at the Stop sign and hitting his head against the steering wheel in frustration with a loud groan.

* * *

**Author's Note: So apparently when the summary asks "will they ever get along?" it means in two chapters... I'll make Dean a dick again don't worry. :)**

**Also, I don't know what football players do for injuries like torn/pulled hamstrings but I've seen movies and stuff where they're sitting in a tub of ice water, so I went off that.**

**The time between Cas leaving the field house and driving home should be about 20 minutes. Long enough for Dean to see his coach, get an ice pack, and walk somewhat home. You'll find out why he was walking instead of driving in the next chapter since it'll be his POV. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean smirked as he watched the white truck leave, the driver obviously distressed. Closing the front door, he threw his jersey in the laundry room and stripped of his pants for some basketball shorts. The white under shirt soon joined the other articles of clothing. Wincing, he sprawled himself on the couch, groaning at the day time television. Loud steps came from the hallway as Dean's younger brother, Sam, peered around the corner. The kid was starting his freshman year at the high school, but he wasn't in any extracurricular activities, so he stayed home. Telling by the opened master bedroom, their dad was gone.

Sam stepped from behind the corner, "I thought practice ended at 3."

Dean looked at the clock, 12:36p. "I pulled my hamstring so Coach Walker let me off early." He gestured to the icy slush strapped to the back of his leg.

His brother pulled a face, "I would've picked you up, but the car wouldn't start, John had to get a ride from Bobby."

Dean shook his head, "You know how I feel about that, Sammy, and it isn't safe. Don't worry about the ride, a guy drove me back when he saw me walking home."

"Whatever – wait, what guy?"

The older brother coughed, leaning up to unwrap his cold pack. "Uh, one of the band geeks."

Sam reached for the bag, stepping in the kitchen to refill it with ice from the fridge. "But don't band members stay out way longer than players?" he called.

"He passed out today," Sam's eyebrows raised as he came back into the room, "dehydration. This short guy and two other people had to carry him in the nurse's station. He was out cold. I thought he was dead, but when he woke up he turned into a jackass."

The ice pack was placed back under Dean's thigh, he gasped at the cold, "But I guess I deserved it. I was a jerk first."

"Then why'd he give you a ride?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sammy, pity? I was limping so maybe he felt bad." Sam took it as a sign to leave Dean alone, only nodding and going back to his own room.

Dean sunk into the couch some more, laying all the way across and taking a pillow to prop his head. He hated to be like that to Sam, but he didn't want to talk about Casti- Castel- Cas, anymore. He didn't matter anyway, he was a band geek. Athletes didn't hang out with band geeks, it was social protocol. Everyone knew that. Even though he was pretty cool once he chilled out. Even though he had forgiven Dean. Even though he had _really _pretty eyes—but no homo. Never homo.

The player stretched out like a cat, dozing off for a quick nap. He'd wake up and work on the car some before trying to drive Sam somewhere to get something to eat. If it didn't work, well, they'd figure something out. Dean dozed off, sleeping soundly with dreams of footballs and flute-clarinet players.

* * *

The next morning Dean was still not allowed to play, so he sat on the bench. The other players were going through their stretches, some were tossing a ball back and forth. The sun hadn't risen yet, making the stadium they played in still shadowed in darkness. Dean yawned, leaning his back over the metal bench to crack his spine. He could see a group of people heading towards them in that position. He could hear some of the instruments, mostly trombones and a few trumpets, though they were scolded almost automatically for playing.

In the front of the group was Cas and the short guy from the day before. Dean didn't need the light to know that the band member was scowling, but it wasn't the players' fault. Coach Walker wouldn't have his team practicing anywhere but the stadium. Now Dean and the rest of the Wolves had to face the wrath of a disgruntled clarinet player.

It wasn't long before the group reached the field. The short one and Cas broke off as the rest waited at the gate. Dean winced as he stood, trying to get to them before anyone saw. Unfortunately, the team captain, Azazel (though they called him Taz), and a few other players were making their way to confront the band members. Dean limped towards the argument, finally making it to the front as Cas was tearing them all a new one.

"Look, all we're saying is that the team needs the field more than some dorks to walk around on." Taz shifted his eyes to Dean, "Isn't that right Winchester?"

All attention was now on Dean, he could practically feel the clarinet player's eyes burning holes into his uniform. He stared at the ground, hoping the right answer was there. Either get hated on by band geeks, or by his own team, he chose the first. "Yeah, we need it more, so get your girly flute-boy out of here."

"Whatever, you get one more day and then I'm going to the principal." A voice warned, when Dean gazed back up, Cas was glaring at him.

"I don't know why I expected more from these Neanderthals, Gabe." Castiel mumbled, "Just let 'em have the field, maybe they'll grow a pair this season."

The one called Gabe patted his shoulder, walking away with Castiel close behind. The band behind them started towards their parking lot field. Taz and his group were laughing, making shooing gestures and shouting obscenities at the band.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes off Cas though as he sulked off, the band member throwing another hateful glance at him. A red head followed suit, giving the football players her middle finger. Another year of the band hating the football team, what else was new?

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, a little short compared to the other two chapters..**

**It'll be Castiel's POV next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

Band camp came and went for Castiel, the first day of his junior year was already there. Maybe a little too quickly, for Castiel's taste. The band didn't bother the football team again for the stadium field, so there were no run-ins with Dean Winchester. The last time Castiel saw the boy was last week when he ran right into him after the morning rehearsal. Dean looked fairly surprised, and was about to say something when his team mates started to gather around them. He told Cas to "watch where you're going flute boy", and clipped his shoulder with his own as he passed him to stalk into the field house. The other players pushed him around as they followed Dean.

He packed his book report for English 3, making sure it wasn't bent and slid it into a folder. Millions of pencil and pens were stocked into his backpack, as well as his packet of notebook paper and other miscellaneous supplies. It was 7:49a, school started at 8:30a. Castiel joined Gabriel at the table, popping in some toast before sitting down to a glass of orange juice. There was a note on the centerpiece from their parents telling them to have a good first day.

"Ready for junior year, little bro?" Gabriel asked through a mouth full of Lucky Charms cereal – if you could called them that, Gabe had a habit of flicking the actual cereal part out and just eating the marshmallows.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Gabriel." He retrieved his toast and some jam.

Gabe slurped down the milk leftover from his bowl, "And if you see Dean Winchester…?"

"Don't make eye contact and resist kicking him in his not-so-happy place." Castiel took a bite of his breakfast.

"That's my boy!" he slapped Castiel on the back, making the other one choke down a glob of soggy toast. "Sorry—I'm gonna go get dressed and then we can head out."

Castiel waved him off, licking the crumbs from his face. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use his brother's advice for Dean.

* * *

"Come _on_,Dean!" Sam called from the front door. "We're gonna be late!"

Dean threw a flannel button down shirt over the old band tee he had dug out of the bottom of his hamper. He made sure to spray on some cologne before grabbing an apple for Sam from the counter. He threw the piece of fruit to his brother, who caught it and bit into it. The master bedroom was shut, meaning John was sleeping and would be very cranky if they tried to make a proper breakfast by making noise.

Jingling the keys to his father's car in his pocket, they buckled in and backed out of the drive way. Going way over the legal speed limit, Dean dropped Sam off at the front door, pointing him in the direction of his first class. The younger brother thanked him ("Have a good last first day of school, Dean!") and ran off as the first bell rang, signaling five more minutes until 8:30a. Dean swooped into his assigned parking space in the student lot and fast walked to his first class, English 3.

He wasn't paying attention to the body next to him as the late bell rang and slipped into the desk. The teacher was already poised to start lecturing the class. Dean pulled out a spiral notebook, searching for a writing utensil but remembering the handful he gave Sam the night before. He huffed, giving up and leaning to the person next to him. "Hey, can borrow a pen? I think I gave them all to my brother."

"I'm sorry, but can you use flute-boy pencils?" a deep, familiar voice whispered back.

"Cas?" he finally got a good look at the person next to him—it was Cas, a pissed off version of the one he met earlier in the summer.

"Hello Dean."

Well shit.

* * *

Castiel slumped into his seat in the cafeteria. His friends were already seated, all of them band or theater (or art, they don't judge). He had taken a seat next to Charlie and her theater friend, Adam, and was angrily tearing pieces from his brown lunch bag. The red head had already picked up on Castiel's horrid mood and slid her brownie to him as a peace offering to not blow up on her. "What flew up your horn and died?" she asked, Castiel smirked at their friends-only joke.

"You will never guess who's in my English 3 class." He propped himself on his elbow.

Charlie bit into an orange slice, mulling it over thoughtfully, "Ruby?"

"Nope, worse."

"Oh God, Meg?" she asked with a dramatic gasp.

"Dean Winchester." He groaned.

Charlie slammed her hand on the table, shaking the food on top. "That bitch is in your English class?"

Adam leaned back to see Castiel's face, "But isn't Dean a senior? What's he doing in a junior level class?"

"Probably too many balls to the face." Charlie grinned.

They all burst out laughing at the joke, Castiel's mood lifting quickly. Soon lunch was over and he was shuffled to the library for his librarian's aid period. One perk of being an overachiever was Castiel could take blow off classes like this one. All he did was sit at the desk, play with his phone, and help people check out books when needed. No one checked out books, though, so he plopped himself in the librarian's chair (she was on break) and whipped out his phone. There was a reminder of music rehearsal, a text from Gabriel asking how his classes were, and not much else.

He looked around the library, only seeing one hunched over student at the credit recovery computers. Castiel took out his novel from his backpack and sighed back into the chair. His quiet was soon destroyed by a young student asking to check out a Spanish textbook. "Name, please?" Castiel asked, putting his bookmark in his new spot.

"Winchester, Sam." The boy replied, handing Castiel the book.

Castiel blanched at the connection, looking up at the boy. He looked nothing like Dean. He was dressed like him, definitely, but no physical features besides maybe hair color (which was a dark brown and hung in the boy's face). Castiel realized that Sam was still holding out the book with a new, annoyed expression. The aid took it quickly, punching in the number on the spine and typing in Sam's credentials from his student ID.

"So you're Dean's brother?" Castiel tried making small talk but the boy's face twisted to a grimace.

"What'd he do this time?" he groaned, eyes flicking to the computers then back to Castiel.

Castiel decided against telling the boy about the hell he'd been put through already, "Nothing, I just know it's a name that gets thrown around a lot here."

Sam visibly relaxed, "Good, I've been getting crap from his old teachers all day."

"Tell me about it, I've been riding my siblings' coattails for years now." Cas grinned, "And Gabe isn't the worst of them."

Sam chuckled, taking the newly checked out textbook, "Hey, I never got your name."

"Castiel Novak, I'm in the band," he shook the hand held out for him.

"Oh you're—!"

"Sammy! Over here!" a voice called from the credit recovery section.

Sam waved goodbye, following the voice. There at the computers was Dean, headset slightly askew from standing with them still on. He talked evenly to Sam, the boy being about his height. Dean gave Sam some money, probably for the vending machines since the last lunch had ended. When they were done conversing, he ruffled Sam's long hair, Sam pushing him back with a laugh. Dean watched as his little brother gave Castiel a mock salute. The senior glanced to Castiel but the aid had turned away, not ready to forgive Dean so easily this time. He heard the other fall into his chair, annoyed. The junior waved to Sam as he exited the library.

The bell rang for the period to end. Castiel quickly gathered his things so he could get to his next class. On his way out Dean pushed past him, knocking him into the door. Cas huffed but couldn't do anything as their classes went opposite ways of the hall. He gathered himself and walked through the crowd, wondering how he could hate one person so much.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Two pages in one day? GASP!**

**It's because y'all deserve more...and because I thought my Dean POV was crappy and wanted to make up. ^^;**

**I might write the next page tomorrow, but for now, SLEEP!**


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel gingerly touched his bottom lip, reminding himself to ice it once he got home. There was an old indention from where his teeth bit into his mouth to protect the reed, stinging from overuse. Music rehearsal had run late and way past their regular schedule. Gabriel was rolling his shoulders, clearly unpracticed in waving his arms around for two hours straight. Soft pops could be heard coming from his older brother's back and other joints.

They left hastily after practice, stepping into the warm, humid air, contrasting greatly from the frigid band hall. Gabriel was complaining about being sore in the morning as Castiel listened, smiling and packing his backpack and clarinet into the bed of the truck securely. His brother was in the middle of an anecdote when a familiar face trotted toward them, waving to Castiel as he reached the truck.

"Hello Sam."

"Hey, Castiel," Sam looked to his feet and then towards the stadium, "Listen, I know we just met and everything, but if it's no problem, Dean's not gonna be done anytime soon with practice and was wondering if I could have a ride home."

Castiel looked to Gabriel, who shrugged, "I don't know, Sam, I don't think you could fit in the cab—."

"He could sit in the bed and keep your stuff safe, Cassie." Gabe suggested.

"Gabriel, he's not old enough, it wouldn't be legal." Castiel warned, Sam's face fell.

The older of the three raised an eyebrow, "How old are you, kiddo?"

"Fifteen."

Gabe's eyes widened, "No kidding! I thought you were 18, you can ride in the bed if you want."

Sam grinned, easily swinging into the bed. Castiel gave Gabriel another pointed look, but the eldest had already slipped into the driver's seat. Both brothers sat in the cab in silence, the only sounds coming from the swishing from passing cars (Gabe had rolled the windows down) and Castiel's directions. It seemed like Gabriel drove a little more recklessly with someone in the back, going over the speed limit and jumping over dips and bumps to watch Sam bounce around in the back. Castiel punched him in the arm, reminding him his instrument was still in the bed.

As they pulled up to the Winchester household, Castiel saw two men sitting in lawn chairs, sipping beer and conversing. Sam waved to them and jumped out of the bed. He thanked the Novaks for the ride, giving the same mock salute to them before walking up the drive, shaking hands with one of the men with a full beard. The other man eyed the truck but looked away as Sam patted him on the shoulder to the house.

The brothers took it as a sign to leave when the man with the beard held up his hand as a goodbye. "Thank you boys!" he called, smiling.

Gabe returned the gesture, "Anytime!"

They drove off, leaving the neighborhood and exiting to get on the highway towards their neighborhood. "So how do you know Sam, Cassie?" Gabe asked, turning at the turn-around.

"He was checking a Spanish textbook out today." Castiel picked at a stray thread on his shirt.

"So he's bilingual…"

"He's also Dean Winchester's little brother." Castiel added.

Gabriel groaned, slapping the steering wheel, "No no no! Why?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes, turning his face to Gabriel as he drove, "Why would you care?"

"Well, I, uh…" Gabriel was thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Brother, may I remind you that you are a _senior _and getting into any relationship at this time would be unfair to your partner?"

Gabriel sighed, "Yeah, I know, Cassie," he tapped on the steering wheel absentmindedly.

"And may I also remind you that you have had admittance to Julliard since last year for your multiple solo opportunities?"

"Yes, Castiel…"

"A full ride, I may add-."

Gabriel placed a hand on the younger brother's shoulder as they pulled into the driveway. "I get it, Castiel." He reassured sadly, removing his hand.

Castiel slid out of the passenger side, retrieving his backpack and instrument. He hated seeing Gabriel so down, he tapped on the driver's window. His brother was still inside, "Just… if you do date, make sure they are aware of your previous engagements."

Gabriel's frown contorted into a face stretching grin, "Sure thing, Cassie, let's go in, I'm sore and starving."

* * *

"So who was that, Sam?"

Sam wasn't in the door two minutes and his dad was questioning him. He threw his bookbag in the corner by the front door and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He hesitated, but a pulled a beer out, too. He didn't want to argue with his dad, it was the first day. Sam closed the fridge and almost ran into his dad.

"It was just Cas and his brother, uh, Gabriel, I think." The boy held out the beer, his father taking it with a smile.

"Oh, are they in your classes?" he popped off the top and took a swig.

"Uh, no, they're-"

"Speak clearly son."

"They're in the band – Castiel is a librarian's aid. I met him today when I was checking out a textbook for my Spanish class." Sam felt like a robot speaking to his father this way. "Dean was in practice, and because I have homework already for my advanced classes, I asked them for a ride and they complied."

His father looked pleased, he nodded, "Well get to it then, Bobby just left so we'll eat once Dean gets here."

Sam skated around his father, padding across the carpet to his room down the hall. Later, Dean came back from practice, sweaty, dirty, and generally bad smelling. John didn't seem to notice, but that was it, wasn't it? Not that he wasn't proud of Sam's academic standing but when it came to the favorite son, the football-head Dean was it. Sam came out of his room, cricking his neck from working on, and finally finishing, his homework for all of his classes. His father and Dean were conversing amongst themselves as John was stirring something in a pot. Probably stale noodles.

"So your credit recovery is going well?" His father was asking, tapping the wooden spoon against the pot.

Dean nodded, "Yessir."

"Good," John gestured for the strainer, Dean held it out to him as his father poured the hot water into the drain, "You know you can't play until you bring your grades up. No slacking, you hear?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

John nodded, "Also, I'd like you to arrange for someone to drive Sam home if you're going to be late at practice. Today he was driven by Gabriel and Cas- Castelle- Castle…"

"Castiel?" Dean offered, regretting it as his father cocked an eyebrow.

"You know of them?"

"They gave the team trouble 'cause they thought the band needed the field more than the team." Dean did a side glance at Sam, who was still watching the exchange, "Taz and I made sure they wouldn't again."

John patted him on the shoulder, "That'a boy, show those band geeks who the real men are!" he finally realized Sam was eavesdropping, "C'mon, Sam, it's time to eat."

Sam pulled himself out of the corner and gathered the silverware and plates to place on the table. Once the table was set, all three of them sat down at the circular table– John at the head, Dean at his left and Sam on Dean's other side, away from his father but in front of him as well. The remaining chair belonged to their mother, Mary, who was currently out of town on a business trip. As they began to eat, John cleared his throat, "Remember Dean, no more rides from those band kids. They're a bad influence, girly, and wouldn't be in band if they could play football."

Dean swallowed thickly, "No problem, sir."

John addressed Sam, "No more hanging out with band geeks, you hear me, boy?"

The youngest opened his mouth to argue, but Dean slightly shook his head, a warning to just go with John's wishes for now, "Yes sir. Loud and clear."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**So this chapter may be a little…crappy. I haven't updated in a while and needed to put something out there to make sure y'all know I'm now dead or quit. ^^;**

**Last time I updated was before I started my new job and summer classes – one of them being English so I've had zero urges to write anything.**

**GOOD NEWS THOUGH! Classes end next week, so hopefully I'll start updating more frequently. **

**So about this chapter towards the end – yes, I've made John a band kid hater…which, unfortunately, I've experienced. **

**Trust me, I'll poop out gold next time. :U**


End file.
